


Those Whom the Gods Mock

by Kagemihari (soracia)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Card Games, Cardslash, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-10
Updated: 2005-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soracia/pseuds/Kagemihari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cardslash for a challenge at playthedamncard on lj, Dark Magician/Flame Swordsman. - "You have always been a fool."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Whom the Gods Mock

**Author's Note:**

> Kagi's notes: I've been wanting to slash these two almost since I started watching Yugioh. Flame Swordsman is my favorite card (obviously), and the DM is a close second. I find it interesting also that they are, respectively, Jounouchi and Yuugi's signature cards. Also being a KaiYami fan, you will find that woven in here... though it is not the point. Flame Swordsman does not have a given name, in canon, but I have called him Kenshin, which may be his original name in the same way that the DM was once Mahaado, or it may simply be a nickname...it seemed to fit. This turned out way more serious than I had planned, and sadly, has no smut. But I will possibly, eventually, write a sequel. XD

Jounouchi's expression caved and he groaned as Yuugi played a series of cards that took the last of his life points. "Damn, I thought I had you that time, Yuugi. When am I going to beat you, huh?"

Yuugi grinned unrepentantly. "You're getting better. You just might beat me one day. We'll have to keep playing until you do."

"I dunno," Jou grumbled. "You're too good for me. You always win. Even Kaiba can't beat you."

Yuugi looked thoughtful. "You think so? I don't know... I think he can. The other me likes to play him. He thinks Kaiba is a challenge."

Jou snorted. "He's that alright. Arrogant bastard."

Yuugi raised an eyebrow. "The other me, or Kaiba?"

"Both of them," Jou retorted.

Yuugi laughed. "I suppose so."

Jou gathered up the cards, returning them to his deck and shuffling them a bit. He picked up the Flame Swordsman card and studied it for a moment. "You really believe all that stuff about the heart of the cards, Yuugi?"

"Yes." Yuugi nodded emphatically, adding, "The cards know who holds them, and they will help you if you let them."

"Where do you suppose they go? When we're not dueling with them--you think they go somewhere else?"

Yuugi looked surprised, as if the question had not occurred to him, but he considered it. "Wherever the souls of the cards live, I suppose. I don't know--the Shadow Realm, maybe."

Jou shuddered. "Wouldn't want to live there, if it was me," he said fervently. He had a healthy dislike of the mystical place--it was too creepy, too supernatural for his comfort. Not to mention dark and scary.

Yuugi smiled. "Yeah, me either. Maybe they live in the cards, the way the other me lives in the puzzle. Or they might have a world all their own--who knows?"

"Yeah, who knows," Jou repeated, losing interest in the conversation. "Hey, Yuugi, I bet I can kick your ass at Soul Caliber II... wanna try it?"

"I'm sure you can," Yuugi answered wryly. He was much better at dueling than any kind of video game, but he knew Jou loved to play them. "Sure, let's go."

"Alright!" Jou crowed. "My kind of game. You won't win so easily this time!"

Yuugi shook his head and followed Jou into the living room, aware that he was about to get his ass kicked big time, as Jou would say. He should teach his other self to play video games--he was sure the King of Games would be able to give Jou a run for his money once he got the hang of it.

\---

In the duel monsters world, the Flame Swordsman glared at the Dark Magician. "You always win," he complained.

The Dark Magician smirked. "Yuugi always wins," he corrected. He smiled to himself, a soft, affectionate expression.

"Same difference," the Swordsman muttered. He eyed the smile suspiciously, and in frustration, finally voiced a long held opinion. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

The Magician's eyes met his in a dark, inscrutable look, and then slid away from him. "Don't be an idiot, Kenshin," he replied. But he didn't answer the question.

"You are!" the Swordsman accused. He looked...injured. "Have you forgotten what you are? What he is? He's human, Mahaado. And we're not. You're not. At least, not anymore," he added more quietly.

"Can't a soul love another soul, no matter who they are? Besides, the human boy is not the one I love--it is the spirit of the puzzle he wears. He was, and is, still my Pharaoh." The magician who had once been Mahaado paused, and then added softly, "And I have always loved him."

Kenshin grunted, in grudging recognition. "You have always been a fool," he said, but without malice. The magician merely smiled, a slightly wistful expression.

"Perhaps," he replied. "My pharaoh is proud, and does not give his heart easily; and once given, he sees no other. I have long known that I will never win that regard from him, though I am confident of his affection. But he will give himself fully only to the one who earns a full measure of his respect as well, and I am not that one."

The swordsman eyed him doubtfully. "How can you say that, when you know he relies on you? You are his favorite, his weapon of choice. How can a man trust in a weapon he does not respect?"

Mahaado shook his head, a bit impatiently. "I did not say that. But there is a difference between the respect one has for a tool in his hand, however well it serves him, and the regard he holds for one he considers an equal in all things."

"Ah," was all that Kenshin said, and he looked faintly sympathetic now, though still disgruntled. "More fool you, then," he grumbled, though not very loud.

The magician shrugged, philosophically. "I am content. I serve him well with my hand and my heart, and his favor is all that I can ask in return. I am not so foolish as to think I might wrest from him what belongs already to another."

Surprised, the swordsman raised his eyebrows in question. "You think he has found that one?" He found it hard to believe that anyone could be the kind of match that Mahaado was speaking of for the King of Games.

Mahaado smiled, and it was a true smile. "There is only one who is his equal. The master of the Blue Eyes is the only one who can beat him. He is the one who holds my pharaoh's heart, and this I know. It has always been thus."

Kenshin was silent, less in sympathy than in the awareness that he, too, loved one whose heart belonged to another. And silent he would remain upon that score, for it was the least he could do in the face of such devotion; to respect where it was given, and that it was not for him to interfere. Much as he would like to. But for a loyalty so longstanding, even hopeless as it was, there was little chance of Mahaado ever seeing anyone else, himself. He was like his pharaoh in that regard. Once given, his heart would see no other, and clearly he had given it, unappreciated though it might be. _It has always been thus._

"Indeed," the swordsman sighed, and contemplated the irony of loving one who loved another who loved another. The gods must laugh when giving such a fate.

After a moment he rose, nodding to Mahaado, and took his leave with a rather uncharacteristically subdued expression. Those whom the gods mocked must yet accept their fate, however hard it be. But he could be forgiven, he felt, for wishing solitude in which to do so.

The Dark Magician looked thoughtful, after his friend had gone. There was something, perhaps more than one thing, that Kenshin had not said to him. Perhaps he would do well to find out what, exactly, that was.

After all, one could love a pharaoh from a distance, but it served no one to let it blind the heart and bind it to an emotion that could never be returned. The pharaoh had found his equal, and Mahaado knew that he could not have been that one, even if there had not been another. His own devotion was too much colored by his awe, and his conviction that no one could truly match the majesty of one who had been the Living God.

He thought, wryly, that it was this very fact which made the man who had been High Priest a match for his pharaoh, in whatever incarnation he appeared. He had his own pride, and likewise had no reluctance about beating the king at his own games. Mahaado himself could never quite lose that sense of reverence he held for his lord, and he had long ago accepted that it was this which made his love, however pure, an unacceptable offering. He had come to realize, in the years since the pharaoh's spirit had returned undiminished, if now insubstantial, that he did not wish to lose it.

The pharaoh was, and would always be, for him, the highest and the best; and this, he felt, did not need alteration. He was content. And perhaps, he thought now, perhaps there was another for him also, a match.

For certain, he should find out if that melancholy look in the Swordsman's eyes just now, had meant what he thought that it might. For if it did...well, if it did, he was not such a fool, either, to make the mistake of losing one love, no less true and infinitely more satisfying, for the sake of one that would never be fulfilled. Blindness such as that would be foolish indeed, and in spite of the truth he admitted in Kenshin's words, he had never been that much of a fool. Self destructive loyalty was well enough covered by that same priest who had been chosen; and perhaps, one day, he would find out what it had earned him.

For his part, Mahaado was going to go find the man he trusted and respected, the man who had been his best friend for more years than he could count, and see if he did not, in fact, have an equal of his own.

Friends, after all, make the best lovers.


End file.
